


Until you have the balls

by CurryJolokia



Category: Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Heiji-centric, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurryJolokia/pseuds/CurryJolokia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "90% of the Heiji in this story is inserted for your benefit. The other 10% does the insertion himself."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until you have the balls

"Nnng--gods." He bit his lip, throat straining tight around groans he didn't want to let out. His breath came fast, shallow and dry; he licked his lips and swallowed, throat parched.  
  
" _Mmmnnnh_ . Nnnhh, ahh!" His voice twisted its way up, a thready nasal whine wrapped around that stubborn, insistent groan that pushed against his clenched teeth with every forward snap of his hips.  
  
The fabric of his jeans, stiffer but quieter than the snappy ripstop nylon of the cargo pants he sometimes wore, slithered near-silently against his skin as he pushed the jeans down with his free hand, wriggling against the wall to drag the fabric further down, off his ass, away from his cock. The fly was wet around the edges, lightly tacky with drying lubricant squeezed off his knuckles and out from between his fingers as he stroked himself hard. He'd used a generous amount, but rubbed most of it away; the clench of his broad hand, tight just like he wanted it right now, was drying out as he continued to thrust. Cheap lubricant never lasted as long as he needed it to, but neither did the expensive kind, either. On another day he might have reapplied, slicked his way into an illusory, welcomingly soft and supple haven.  Today, the growing friction of his drying, tightening palm was what he hoped for.  
  
"God, fuck, fuck, g-gods." Panting harder, ass tapping the wall on each backstroke as the exhaustion in his thighs and glutes made his thrusts sloppy, he stretched his neck out, baring his throat in total vulnerability to the teeth and aggression of his imagined partner. He let the back of his head hit the wall, and the insistent groan trapped behind his tongue finally had its way, rolling out of his throat in the basso tones of his lowest register, a primal, anonymous sound that his imagination promptly ascribed to his imaginary partner. He envisioned their head dropping forward to rest on his shoulder, their hands tight around his biceps; he imagined strong, muscled thighs against his own, a hot belly pressed against the underside of his cock; he imagined them kneeling, opening their wet lips, tilting and lowering their head just so…  
  
With the most indelicate of guttural noises, a grunt of purely instinctual, masculine need, Heiji came across his hand and naked body in a quick, hard orgasm that left his legs weak and his whole body sagging against the wall behind him for support. Come slid down his stomach to the crease of his groin, headed for his inner thighs; though it was as thick and sticky as any load he'd shot before, Heiji's body was, this time, covered in such a thick sheen of sweat that his come rolled right off of him toward the floor. A washcloth, on hand for more or less that purpose, caught and wiped up his mess before it hit the hardwood.  
  
With a squeak of sweaty skin against varnish, Heiji thumped down to sprawl on the floor, thighs spread wide, proud cock softening in his hand. His gaze still glazed over, he reached between his legs, past and behind his ballsac, with two fingers extended. The soft, sensitive perineum, which sent shivers through him as he tickled it with his fingernails, received due attention; but his goal was the entrance behind it, already washed, cleaned, and stretched to readiness. His orgasm had momentarily tightened every muscle in his body, it felt like, but his endorphins - and the scarecely-diluted lust still running through him - now loosened his muscles in eagerness.  
  
Heiji never spoke about indulging his fantasies in this particular way; he never talked to anyone else about them, and tried not to think about them when he wasn't in private, for security's sake. He wasn't sure how he'd explain it to anyone if they asked; he had a hard time explaining it to himself, actually, but the system worked, all the justifications fit together properly, and he was able to hold his head up and grinningly meet the eye of everyone whose names he cried out in the privacy of his own bedroom and his own fantasies. So, he figured, everything worked out okay.  
  
Heiji slicked up and worked two fingers in past the ring of his entrance, rubbing and spreading them to loosen the muscle. His head sang with lightheaded excitement as his fingers sank in past the next knuckle and his cock jerked, already recovering and gaining interest in the exquisite sensations of auto-penetration.  
  
Heiji added a third finger, and stroked them in and out with a languid, purposed grace. White flashes of light, like sheet lightning above clouds, flashed against the backs of his closed eyelids as he hooked his fingertips against his prostate and kept going, pushing in harder, deeper. He added his pinky, the slim finger adding just  _that_  much more tension, that much more pressure and strain; he licked his lips and let his mouth hang open, gasping in pleasure as he rocked himself onto his hand, stomach tight and body curving into the motion on every push.  
  
By now his cock was hard again, mocha brown and glossy at the tip; it was perhaps a bit thicker than average but its color made it look massive, ponderous and demanding against the lighter, cafe-latte skin of his belly. Heiji opened his eyes and looked down, watching his cock bob as his body shifted against the floor and the wall; watching his fingers thrust in, and pull out; in, and pull out again. The webs between his fingers had begun to gather excess lubricant, the gel building up like the clear pre-come that leaked across the broad head of his cock. He swallowed hard, smelling his own arousal, and bit back the groan that wanted to rise.  
  
He closed his eyes; now the complicated part began; who would he imagine this time? Would he be able to resist the visions he most wanted to indulge in? As his body spread hungrily around his own hand, Heiji hoped he wouldn't call out Kazuha's name this time; she was the reason for these private little sessions to start, and she was the reason that he'd had to change the way that he jerked off, the way he fantasized, even the sounds he made - or tried not to. He hoped he'd be able to keep from saying her name, after imagining someone else; he'd only let himself resume intense sessions of masturbation like this once he'd gotten himself and his imagination in control, figured out a way to be sure he could live with himself afterward.  
  
Heiji had known Kazuha for so very many years, and loved her almost as long. Sometimes it felt like he'd loved her longer than he'd known her. But even after over a decade of friendship and a dependent relationship that nearly qualified as fraternal, Heiji still couldn't come to terms with the more carnal side of his love and desire for his best friend. Even knowing that she probably returned the feelings didn't help; he felt disrespectful, dirty, reproachable, for indulging in his fantasies of Kazuha in that way. She was an athlete, fit and at the same time blessed with exceptionally bountiful femininity; Heiji had seen her in a swimsuit, seen her in a bath towel, but never seen her naked. He imagined laying her back on the bed, admiring the softness of her body, the way her ample - more than ample - breasts would roll to the sides, baring her breastbone for kisses, her ribs for gentle tickling; he imagined pushing her knees apart, bending over her and thrusting into her, pressing in as deep as he could possibly go, feeling the soft, wet, plush thickness of her part, and close around, and cling to his skin as he pushed forward, folding her legs back to bury every inch---  
  
Heiij grabbed his cock hard and squeezed, jerking himself out of the fantasy.  _No._  Kazuha deserved better than his fucking fantasies; she deserved a  _making-love_  fantasy from him. And he had plenty of those. If Kudo knew how completely moon-faced his best friend was for Toyama Kazuha, well, Heiji would never hear the end of it for  _months._  And if that best friend knew what Heiji did to keep his mind  _off_  of Kazuha during those moments when bodily need reached a crescendo and personal willpower waned...if Kudo knew whom Heiji envisioned when all he wanted was a good, hard fuck...   
  
" _Fuck._  Fuck, fuck, fuck. C'mn. Li-like that." Heiji arched against the floor, head turned to the side, chin and shoulder pressing the hardwood at an uncomfortable angle. He thrust his fingers deeper into himself, wrist aching, body singing with electric arousal. His free hand clutched at his cock with decreasingly coordinated strokes.  
  
"Li-like that. C'mon. C'mon." His eyes were squeezed shut, tongue flicking out occasionally to wet his lips. His throat was unsalvageable dry, anticipation and hunger parching it with a thirst that couldn't be quenched through a mere fantasy. But as for the appetite which could be satisfied, Heiji pushed harder, thrust deeper, and finally, let a keening, soft-throated groan rise out of him as he lurched forward, cock bucking with his second orgasm of the afternoon. His body clenched hard around his fingers as their tips hooked forward against his prostate, squeezing every ounce of sensation into one single moment of overload, and he sagged where he knelt, shoulder and knees stuck with sweat to the glossy hardwood floor. His cock hung down between these two points, the tip messy with a thread of come that hadn't yet fallen to the floor below.  
  
Breathing hard, Heiji tipped onto his side and curled up, tightening his ass against the too-empty feeling just after withdrawal. He wondered, as he often did when coming down from an orgasm, what it would feel like to have the satin warmth of another person's cock, instead of the bony, awkwardly-angled crescents of his arched fingers, piercing him to the core; he imagined the one man that he would trust enough with that experiment, and let his imagination run with the image for a while, picturing his body curled against Heiji's back, warm and bony; picturing his equal height, lesser weight and build, fierce determination. Heiji wondered what it would feel like to feel that man's hand around his own cock, that man's mouth sucking him off; he drifted, warm in the sunbeams washing in his window in the sweltering summer heat of early afternoon, and imagined a lot of things about Kudo Shinichi, his best friend, closest confidante, and the only person living with whom Heiji felt comfortable, even in fantasy, to slake his bodily lust.  
  
He didn't think of Kazuha; body tingling with the power of anal orgasm, Heiji dozed off into a sticky afternoon nap, naked on his bedroom floor, and woke with a bit of soreness in his shoulder and hip, but utter relaxation through every muscle of his body. He washed off, got dressed, cleaned everything up and laundered his washcloths as well; he surfed the internet a bit, texted Kazuha, and set up a casual outing for later that afternoon. She accepted readily, glad that Heiji wanted to hang out with her again, and not questioning why it had been about a week since he had shown that willingness last. Heiji brushed his hair, pocketed his cap and wallet, and met Kazuha for movies and popcorn, and they both paid their own ways. He admired her dress and her matching ribbon, teased her about her tall heels that still didn't make her as tall as him, and caught a glimpse of her in the sunset light, just before they ducked into the theatre for the start of the film, that completely and utterly took his breath away.  
  
Later that evening, Heiji emailed Kudo, telling him he might take a page out of the Eastern detective's book, and maybe treat Kazuha to the movie the next time they went out; Kudo's reply came back quickly, reminding Heiji that he'd said he was going to do so the last eight times he'd taken Kazuha out for a non-date, and the day he actually proposed a  _date_ -date to her, Kudo would eat his soccer ball. Heiji emailed back, telling Kudo where he could put his ball, or balls, plural, and logged off. He brushed his teeth, fell into bed, and worked his hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs.  
  
And as he lay in the darkness of his bedroom, stroking himself into to a slow, languid erection and orgasm, Heiji reflected on the convenience of having a best friend whom you could rely on for anything, even providing wank material. It wasn't disrespectful to Kudo for Heiji to think of him when he did this; he'd understand, he was a guy. And Kudo had more than his share of gorgeous libido inspiration. Heiji had his fair share, too, but until he had the balls to tell Kazuha that he loved her, he didn't have any right to cry out her name into his pillows. So, for the moment…  
  
"God, gods, nnnngh. Right...right there. Fuck me, K-kudo,  _harder._ "


End file.
